


Paper, Porcelain, Crystal

by hannahetesta



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:31:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4233984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahetesta/pseuds/hannahetesta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fragile. Paper, porcelain, crystal. Treated as if I am breakable. Perhaps I am. A oneshot overview of Fury Road from Cheedo's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper, Porcelain, Crystal

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because when I saw the film in theaters, my sister made a comment I didn't like at all. When Cheedo says, "Take me!" near the end of the film, my sister whispered to me, "What a bitch!", thinking that she still wanted to be in the Immortan Joe's good graces.
> 
> Cheedo is scared. She doesn't want to be without the security and knowledge that she is taken care of. She's frightened. And I don't blame her for wanting to go back. Her using that fear to help Furiosa was amazing and brave and she's easily my favorite character.
> 
> So have Fury Road from her point of view. It's rough, I'm not expecting many people to read it, but oh well.
> 
> Spoilers ahead, if you haven't seen the movie.

Fragile. Paper, porcelain, crystal. Treated as if I am breakable. Perhaps I am.

I am not touched like the others. I am given a heavy belt to wear. I have to be careful, sit with my legs apart. The spikes have grazed my skin, drawing blood, and the Immortan doesn't want me hurt. I must be pristine for him, when my time comes.

It never does.

Angharad talks of leaving. She repeats herself. "Who killed the world?" "We are not things." What does that mean? She never explains. "Is this really a life we want to have? A life we want our children to have?"

It's confined, but it's familiar. Safe. The only life I know. Why leave for the unknown?

"We are not things!"

I am the only one who seems reluctant to go into the war rig. It's hot, small; I force my thighs away from the spikes with my hands. The Dag whispers in my ear. "We are going to the Green Place. Furiosa said so. Can you imagine? Green in the desert."

Furiosa didn't say anything about sandstorms. She said nothing of a man shooting Angharad in the leg. All she said was, "Out here, everything hurts." I don't want to hurt anymore.

We lose Angharad, and without her I feel directionless. I want to go back to the Immortan. "We are not things!" Capable screams. "Those were her words!"

"AND NOW SHE'S DEAD!" Angharad was a mother to us, how can we survive without her? When will they realize this is pointless? When another one of us is gone?

The Green Place is a lie. It's not green, it's brown. Mud, poisoned. Furiosa lied to us. The Many Mothers take us in, but the man we are with is the one I secretly trust with my life. He wants us to go back to the Citadel. That's where the water is. That's where fruit is, says Toast. We have to go back home. But it's not home. Is it?

Do I even want to go back?

The Immortan won't want us anymore. We are traitors. He will kill me, kill the others who are not carrying his children. He only wants us for childbearing. But we are not…

We are not things.

WE ARE NOT THINGS.

The way we came is even more dangerous now. They take Toast, and my head is spinning. Thinking. How can I help? How can we survive this?

I distract. "Rictus! Take me!" For once, I don't mean it. I never want to be his or anyone's. And it works.

We save Toast, but the warboy, Nux, the one Capable is fond of - he stays behind. "Witness me," he says before we drive off, leaving him to die. I look at Capable. Her face is stone. She does not cry.

The Citadel seems different without the Immortan. Furiosa is in charge now. Everyone gets water and food. Our rooms are closed off, sealed.

I spend my days reading and playing with the younger warboys. They're so innocent, fragile. Like me. Perhaps we are not so different.

It feels different, now. I remember Nux saying something similar: "Feels like hope." I have always known this place to be my home, but it was bleak. I was caged. Paper, porcelain, crystal. Trapped. Can I even think of the Citadel as someplace I want to live?

The Immortan is dead. We are free to live in peace. We are not things.

If I am with my sisters, with my friends - yes. It is home.


End file.
